


The Binding of Loki

by Roadstergal



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, F/M, Fatherhood, Groupies, Illusions, Jealousy, M/M, Other, Pregnancy, Refugees, Sex, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 12:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: In Norse mythology canon, Loki has been female and borne children; I wanted to play with that idea in MCU-verse.  Set after the main events of Ragnarok, and it's probably AU as of the end of the credits - ah well.Many thanks to Kahvi for the idea and the excellent beta suggestions.





	1. Chapter 1

 “Earth,” Thor sighed, his voice full of pleased longing.

Loki looked over at his brother, frowning.  Perhaps, if he could look at the planet they were approaching dispassionately, he might be able to find some beauty in its staid continents swimming in a blue sea, the white clouds streaming across its surface.  But for Loki, it looked like failure, the blue of a faded tesseract tasting like rejection and death.

Loki did not understand why it didn’t feel like death to Thor, as well.  The woman he loved was aging at ten times Thor’s speed, after all.  Thor could speak of ‘mutual dumping,’ but Loki didn’t believe a word of it.  She might be old and grey already – Loki had lost track of time, a bit, since the last they were there.  “Lovely,” he deadpanned.

Thor cast him an irritated look. “It’s a fantastic place, a very beautiful planet.  You’ll love it, just give it a chance.”

“Yes, I’m sure they’ll be  _delighted_  to see me.  After I tried to take it over.  And,” Loki gestured behind him, “I’m sure they’ll be glad to find a sovereign home for a thousand long-lived Asgardians and a handful of violent gladiators.  I’m sure there’s an abandoned nation-state they’re not using…”

“You’re always so negative, Loki.”  Thor turned to face Loki, his hands animating his words.  “Look, we don’t have to have it all figured out when we arrive!  We’ll just head over, look up some old friends, have a little chat, be open, see how things go…”

The sparking around Loki’s feet started as soon as they touched atmosphere, almost in harmony with the flickering orange flames around the shell of the landing craft.  “Oh hell,” he sighed, resigned, as the bottom dropped out of his own personal reality, and he fell.   _Damn_  Thor and his persuasive optimism.  Loki should have stayed behind.  Thor should have brought Valkyrie.  Everyone loved pretty girls – even if they were violent alcoholics.  She would have been a smashing success, in every sense of the word.

At least he did not fall for long, this time.  It was only a few seconds before he landed, hard, in a chair.  Before he could regain his bearings, bonds of some unfamiliar, glowing, orange force surrounded his chest and arms, lashing him tightly to the chair.  More of the same odd ropes tied his legs to the chair’s legs, and covered his mouth, effectively blunting his powers.

Loki grunted with annoyance, looking around at the new location this so-called  _Doctor_  had brought him to.  It was… distressingly familiar, an opulent lounge set high above the city, three walls of glass and a  _very_  large bar.  Not to mention a painfully hard marble floor.  Loki remembered that feature vividly.

“Back so soon.”  Strange walked around to Loki’s field of view, wearing his ridiculous high-collar outfit, utterly failing to swirl his cape properly.  Amateur.  It fluttered at his heels like a nervous puppy.  “Why?”

Loki gave Strange an exasperated look.   _I can hardly answer with my mouth bound, shitwit_ , he tried to make it say.  From the way Strange rolled his eyes and looked away, Loki must have gotten pretty close.

“What is it?” a voice called from beyond Loki’s vision.  Another distressingly familiar voice.

“Come and see,” Strange called back to the voice, over Loki’s shoulder.

Stark was looking older, Loki noted, as he walked into view.  His face was more lined, his hair and beard more grey, although his predilection for faded shirts and torn trousers was unchanged.  It would be quite easy to simply  _outlive_  these Avengers, Loki considered – but of course, they would be grooming another generation of superfreaks.  These humans bred like rats.  He was pleased to see that his presence made Stark stop in his tracks, then step to the bar and pour himself a large drink.  “Why?”  He pointed at Loki.  “Strange, I can’t help noting… well, that one… here’s here… again?  Why?"

“It’s what I’m trying to figure out.”  Strange stared levelly at Loki, who shrugged.  “We should try to find his brother…”

Speaking of.  Loki raised his eyebrows, jerking his chin, trying to direct Strange’s attention to something rather important happening in the clear blue sky outside of the large windows.  At least Stark noticed, finally.

“Thor… he’s in that ship, isn’t he?” Stark asked.

Strange turned. “I believe so,” he answered.

“I mean… he’s not really very good at flying ships…”

“I would advise you to take some action as soon as practicable.”

“Shit.”  Stark put his whiskey down and started to fiddle with two metal bracelets on his wrists, running towards the window.  “Mother  _fuck_.”  He pushed the window open, hurrying out, the pieces of his suit rising from the ground and forming around his body.  Loki watched with interest – Thor’s ship was coming in  _very_  hot…

Stark flew up towards it once fully suited, grabbing it by the smoothly rounded nose.  For a moment, he and Thor worked at cross purposes, dancing forward and backwards in the sky.  Finally, Thor must have gotten the idea, and the bright blue flame of the thrusters on the landing craft sputtered out.  The craft lurched backwards in a gut-churning move before Stark got it under control, sliding underneath it for better leverage.  After doing a drunken dance of balance across the sky, he brought it in to the flat landing pad that glowed outside of the window, slightly offset from the room where Loki and Strange sat.

The landing itself was not gentle, and the crash shook the building and made Loki’s chair dance.  Like most of Thor’s landings, Loki noted.

The suit fell away from Stark’s body and tucked itself away neatly as he walked back into the – well, bar-room, as far as Loki could tell.  The huge, opulent, sunny bar-room.  Loki had seen worse uses for that much space.  Thor pushed open the landing craft door and hurried in after Stark, dwarfing the scale of the room and darkening the door.  “Loki!  Are you all right?”

“Hey, now,” Stark said, collecting his half-drunk glass and pointing at Thor.  “Let’s get a few things settled, okay?  This one ruined half the city the last time we saw him!  And… well… you?  Eye?  Hair?  Hammer?  I think we’ve missed a few steps.”

“Yes, and I will happily clear them once you release my brother.”  Thor reached for Loki, but the bonds sparked and crackled, making him snatch his hands away.  They stung at Loki as well, but his hiss was muffled by the gag.

“No,” Strange replied.  “He is a danger to our world, and must be neutralized.”

Thor gave Strange an exasperated look.  “Neutralized?  Come on.  Now, there were some misunderstandings, I know, but we’ve sorted a lot of things out, and…”

“This is beyond a misunderstanding!” Strange snapped, stepping close to the large, threatening god.  Loki noted that lightning was beginning to glow in Thor’s eyes.  Heart-warming, yes, but not exactly productive.  “This is an existential threat to the existence of our planet…”

“Who.. hoo… okay, let’s settle down a bit!” Stark said, waving his hands.  “I think... we have a lot to talk about, and we all need a drink.”

Loki tended to agree, but he did not think one was forthcoming for him.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The room they retired to was just as  _Stark_  as the bar-room - excessively opulent, the painstaking neatness of a professional cleaner - if slightly more serious.  A dark wooden table stretched down a room as long as the Hero’s Hall in Valhalla, a room with deep carpets that soaked up footfalls and dark grey walls that reminded Loki of his glimpse of the After after being run through.

Strange loosened Loki’s bonds enough to walk with the rest of them, but lashed him to one of the horrifically uncomfortable wooden chairs that lined the table.  “I will free your mouth and one hand so you can drink,” he told Loki, “but you are not allowed to talk.  Is that clear?”

Loki nodded with a parody of a winning smile.  He would make sure to talk only when it would cause the maximal chaos, and drink until then.

“Really?  Just ripped it right out?” Stark asked, walking into the room behind them with Thor.  Their easy familiarity grated at Loki.

“Yes!  Can you believe it?  Just took the knife and…” Thor mimed ripping an eye out of a socket.  “Pop!  Just like that.”

“Damn!  Did it hurt?”

“Well, you know, the fog of battle…” Thor waved his hand.  “It ached like a massive hangover for days, afterwards!”

“Speaking of…” Stark walked to the wall at the head of the table, and pressed a hidden button.  The dark wall slid away, revealing a bar that was only slightly less extensive than the one in the sunroom they had just left.  Loki tried not to warm to the man.

Stark ran his fingers over the bottles, selecting one and pouring a hearty drink.  He put a second glass next to it and filled it just as high.  “Thor?”

Thor sat in the chair at the head of the table, which creaked ominously under his bulk.  “Beer.”

“Got it.  Strange?”

“I’m fine.” Strange held up a hand and sat across from Loki, staring at him keenly.  Loki smiled more widely at him, hoping to keep him off balance.

Stark put a sizable bottle in front of Thor, and slid the second glass he had poured over to Loki.  Loki caught it and smelled it.  It was a whiskey, with a bold, sturdy smell.  He sipped it, finding it pleasingly smoky, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat.

“Right.” Stark sat next to Thor, sighing.  “Let’s get to business.  Your brother.”

Thor drained half of his bottle in one draught. “Look, I know it seemed quite ugly last time he was here.  But remember the alien craft that tried to destroy London?  Those were the Dark Elves, and they wanted to destroy the Earth.  All of the Seven Realms, come to that!  And Loki... helped with stopping them.  A lot!”

Loki frowned and took a good swallow of whiskey, letting the burn flow into his limbs and his brain.  He needed it to help block the memories from flooding back  _too_  quickly.  Frigga, anger, despair, burning jealousy, pain…

“And after we came to Earth and met you,” Thor told Strange, “he helped defeat my sister.  The one who took my eye!” he told Stark, laughing.  “Family, what do you do.  Anyway, he’s problematic, I know.” Loki bristled, but bit his tongue.  Not yet.  This wasn’t the time.  “He’s the God of Mischief.  What can I say? But he’s not the God of Evil.  He’s fundamentally good.”

“Even mischief, with the power he wields, threatens our world,” Strange intoned.  Pompous bastard.  “We must find a way to blunt his power.”

Loki forced himself to stay still and quiet.  It was just talk, for now.  But this talk was dangerous; it put him on guard.

“We don’t need to do that.  My power has grown.  I can handle him.” Thor drained his beer.  He might have a point, Loki thought.  His power was… massive.  Greater than Odin’s, Loki was fairly sure.  The power he had witnessed Thor wield at the Fall of Asgard had been… well, epic was the only word.  Loki was fairly certain that Thor himself did not realize how potent he was, now.  Losing Mjolnir had been losing a security blanket – an object more limiting in its focus than useful, now.  Thor would only grow in potency.

“You cannot be there all the time.  You cannot prevent everything.” Strange sounded more certain than Loki felt.  “We must blunt him.”

Thor laughed.  “Blunt? How?”

“Castration has been used in the past…” Strange paused to let Loki spit out a mouthful of whiskey, “with some success.”

“Really?” Stark asked, looking a bit ashen.

“No,” Thor said, firmly.  “No.  Not… no.”

Loki swallowed another large gulp of whiskey, and pulled steadiness and certainty from the jolt.  Now was the time.  It wasn’t a perfectly fleshed-out idea, but it would do.  “Perhaps I can propose an alternative.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m bothered by this,” Stark said, his voice a little strained, his fingers drumming on the table.

Loki smiled winningly at Stark, taking in a breath to inflate her breasts.  She should have thought of this before they landed; it might have smoothed out the whole encounter.  Everyone loves pretty girls, after all – and even less pretty girls could get by.  Girls like Loki’s alternate form, which he had switched to in front of their eyes to make his point.  “No balls, just like Strange wanted,” she lilted at the human across from her.

“I thought…” Thor swallowed.  “I thought this was always one of your glamours, brother.”

“It’s a genuine form,” she reassured him.  Like her Jotun form.  “My  _adopted_  brother.”

“Um.” Stark tore his gaze away from Loki’s moderate chest with obvious effort.  “Strange – does this do the trick?”

“No, not at all.”  Strange shook his head.  “It’s not like neutering.  A female does not have blunted powers compared to a male.”

Damn it all, Loki fumed.  This had been his ace card, his surprise to dazzle and confuse them, to give him a moment’s freedom to fast-talk his way the hel out of there.  “So what of mine do you want to chop off now?” she asked him, acidly.

Strange did not take the bait.  “No need.  Pregnancy will blunt a witch’s powers, to prevent harm to the child.”

_I’m not a witch_.  “And who’s going to make my day?” she asked him archly.  “Are you so hard-pressed for a mate that you’ll bed a Jotun?”  And she’d show him, if it came to that.  It was a form that would wilt the sturdiest erection.

“This conversation is getting very weird,” Stark noted, rising to fetch the whole bottle.  Thor was clearly searching very hard for both words and a proper order for them.

“Not at all.” Loki didn’t like the look on Strange’s face.  “That is not a long-term solution.  However, if you were to bear a child that tied you to your adopted family…”

“No.  Sorry,  _no_ , that’s it, we’re going to find another planet…” Thor leapt to his feet, lightning snapping in his eyes.

“I won’t let him… her… Loki leave.  He… she… is too dangerous,” Strange countered.  “The chaos this one leaves in… its wake would be on my conscience.”

“Your conscience is the least of your concerns at the moment…” Thor rumbled, clouds forming over his head.

And suddenly, just like  _that_ , it all became clear to Loki.  The path forward.  The way to leave Thor in good standing with his friends, and to give Loki her freedom.  To give Thor an heir and the Asgardians a possible home.  To be the hero of this situation – on her own terms.

It was a fairly perfect plan, if she did say so herself.

“Sit down, Thor,” she said, smiling at him, enhancing the sultriness of the look with glamour.  “The idea has possibilities.  Think about it,  _brother_.  You have a predilections for humans.” Thor sat, flushing. “But they can’t bear you a legitimate heir.  With Odin gone, you have to think of your succession.  This scenario pleases your perverted friends,” Stark, to his credit, looked uncomfortable, “and keeps me alive and intact.  We should at least consider it.”

"With some help,” Stark noted, refilling his glass and Loki’s, and sliding the rest of the bottle to Thor.

Their discussions went late into the night, circling around shockingly banal considerations of living arrangements for an attenuated Loki and a large number of refugee Asgardians, and they went through more than a few bottles.  Strange, Loki noted, did not imbibe.  He kept his mind sober and his bonds around Loki strong.

“Hokay,” Stark said, once they found themselves discussing names, schooling – everything, Loki noted, except for the actual act of making the child in question.  He tossed another empty bottle at a waste can and missed badly.  “We’re… not getting anywhere anymore.”

“We have  _something_ …” Thor leaned on the table, and the wood moaned. “Our parlay has borne,” he hiccupped, “fruit.  Possibilities for… a place for my people.” Good lord, Loki thought, he was talking like the All-Father already.  “These other worlds…”

“Mars, maybe,” Stark replied, “and it’s just an idea… we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“These possibilities are contingent on control of this one,” Strange noted, pointing at Loki. “In one way or another.”

“Yes, we know.  Do you want to  _watch_?” Loki asked, archly.  Alcohol had made her more prickly than usual.

“I’ll restrain you in a way that lets you sleep tonight,” Strange said, standing, ignoring the provocation.

“Oh, really.  Perhaps you want to be  _involved_?”

Thor barreled over to her, drunkenly, and grabbed her in a bear hug, ignoring the snapping of her bonds at his arms.  “We’ll take care of you, little brother,” he promised.  “You took care of me, you saved my life, I thought you were dead, and even when you tried to betray me to the Grand Master, I knew that was just being you, you saved us by burning Asgard down…”

“Shut up,” she hissed in his ear, “stop  _helping_.”

Thor and Stark staggered off down the hall together, balancing each other very poorly, bumping into the walls alternately as they made their way to bed arm-in-arm.  Loki watched them go with a sigh, then stumbled towards Strange as he snapped the force-bonds towards him.  “This way,” he said.

“You’re going to put me to bed?” she purred, walking unsteadily in his wake.  “Tell me, just how  _Strange_  do you like it?”

“Don’t waste your time,” the man replied, tugging Loki to follow him down the hallway in the opposite direction from Thor and Stark.

“Oh!  Are women not to your fancy?  Do you prefer this?” Loki switched back to male, giving himself the glamour of a dew-eyed young boy with rich chocolate skin, still smooth from youth.  It was good to stay in practice - and great fun to do it this way.

“No.”  Strange contorted the bonds, and the glamor disappeared, leaving Loki in his natural state.

“You… are no fun at all,” Loki grumbled.

The bedroom Strange guided him to was far more opulent than the one Loki had become accustomed to on the ship.  It made up for the distracting, constraining, power-sapping bonds. “If you need to disrobe, do it now.  Your state will not change after I leave you for the night in these.”

“Such confusing messages,” Loki laughed without humor.  He stripped off his tunic and trousers, collapsing into the soft, supportive bed with a sigh as the bonds re-formed around him and Strange left him in darkness, his cape fluttering in almost an apologetic fashion as he walked through the door. 

Loki ran through his plan in his mind as he let himself drift off to sleep.  The bones of the plan were in place - a solid structure - and he would have the leisure to flesh out the rest of it in the days to come.  It wasn’t elegant, it was a bit dangerous – but it was solid, it would work.

He was fairly sure.


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't like this," Thor told his hands, twisting them together, looking at the play of skin on skin with excessive interest.  He had put this off as long as possible.  He didn’t even want to  _think_ about it.  He had considered getting drunk and barging through it with as little memory of it as possible, but that would be entirely unfair to Loki.

His relationship to Loki was excessively complicated already.  This would  _not_  help.

"You don't have to go through with it," Strange told him, leaning against the wall.  His cloak whipped at his thighs, despite the lack of any breeze, almost nervously.

"I don't?" Thor looked up hopefully at the man from his perch on the edge of the opulent bed Stark had provided for him.

"Of course not.  We could just kill Loki."  Strange sighed.  "I honestly think that's the most practical option, short- and long-term.  I wish you would consider it."

Thor stood, feeling protectiveness welling up inside of him.  God knows Loki had done some terrible things – but he had done some magnificent ones, as well.  It was simply his nature.  He was a man of extremes – even if he was sometimes a woman.  "That is  _not_  an option."

Strange sighed.  "He's tried to kill  _you_.  He's not even your real brother."

Thor shook his head, firmly.  Strange knew nothing.  "It's just stabbing - he knows it won't kill me.  He doesn't express affection well." Thor shrugged.  "And he  _is_  my brother, make no mistake."  Yes, this was something Thor had struggled with mightily.  But even if Loki was not born of Thor's same flesh and blood - well, they loved each other, and hated each other, and risked their lives for each other even as they tried to kill each other - and if that didn't make them brothers, Thor didn't know what did.

"Fine," Strange snorted.  "I'll go fetch your  _brother,_  so you can impregnate her."

Thor sat down heavily on the bed, feeling utterly unprepared for any of this.  Yes, Strange had offered him the opportunity to... make this happen without the actual act, but the process the doctor had described seemed even more humiliating than this act - which was already fairly humiliating, just to consider.  It was the best of many very poor options.  Thor, however, felt as unready for this act as he ever had, physically as well as mentally.  That might be a substantial problem.

As Strange left, Beverly stepped in and began to collect his discarded clothing from the night before. With so many semi-permanent residents in Stark Tower and multiple transient guests, Tony had hired a full-time maid to look after the guest rooms and food staff.  She was kind enough, and went about her work quietly and efficiently, but Thor was in no mood.  Especially as he was about to un-make the bed anyway.  He shuddered to think of it.

"Beverly - you can leave that until later," he told her.  "I'll be... I'll be busy in here for a while."

"Oh?" She put his scattered clothing into a hamper.  "Busy doing what?"

"Nothing... nothing important...  but I need my privacy..."

"Ah!" She laughed, tucking an imaginary stray wisp of hair behind her ear (no hair ever escaped the tight bun at the back of her head).  "I'll just take this laundry and leave you to your  _nothing important_."

As she stepped out with the hamper in her hands, Loki stepped in.  She must be using some sort of glamour, Thor thought, because she looked  _radiant_ \- her hair, plaited over her right shoulder, glowing a raven blue-black, her breasts full in a dark green dress, her red lips stark against her pale skin.  "Well," she said, taking a deep breath, "Thor."  She cast a dirty look over her shoulder at Beverly, who closed the door tightly behind her, then turned back to Thor, smiling.

"Yes," Thor sighed.  "I don't know if I'm ready for this.  I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this."

Loki came and sat next to him, leaning close, letting him feel her body heat.  "It has to be done, though, doesn't it?  Don't worry, we'll make it as fun as we can.  I promise, it will be!"

Thor put his hand on her thigh, feeling its firmness through the velvet.   _Some sort of glamour_. 

She smiled again and leaned in, brushing her lips against his cheek.

Thor stood.  "Beverly?  Could you come in, please?"

Loki jumped to her feet, her jaw dropping with surprise.  "Um,  _what_  are you..."

Beverly poked her head in again.  "Yes, dear?"

"Loki. Let this nice girl go home.  You're not fooling anyone."

Beverly stepped in and closed the door behind her, then frowned and shrugged.  The scene flickered.

"You said this would work!" the woman next to Thor pouted, glaring at Loki.  She was statuesque, tan, blonde, large-breasted - and extremely put out.

"A few years ago, it probably would have," Thor admitted to his brother.  "But I'm getting a sense for your illusions, Loki."

Loki spread his arms.  "I had to try, brother."

The blonde girl squeaked in annoyance. "I have  _never_ been so humiliated in my life..." she huffed, stalking towards the door.

"We'll work on that," Loki called after her, closing the door behind her.  He turned back to Thor. "You made a groupie very unhappy."

Thor sat back down on the bed, shaking his head and sighing.  Leave it to Loki to take a supremely uncomfortable situation and make it, impossibly, even more uncomfortable.    Thor’s head was spinning.  "Why do you have to  _do_ this, brother?  Why do you have to draw everything out, make it  _worse_?"

Loki leaned against the door.  "Really... I don't think it gets worse than this."  He shook his head, slowly.  "At least, with every other humiliation I've undergone, I haven't had to initiate it myself."

"Strange was offering to kill you just ten minutes ago."

Loki considered this, then shifted to female form.  She sat  next to Thor on the edge of the bed, leaning close, putting her hand on Thor's arm.  "We could escape from here, brother.  Take our chances on the run.  We'll be fine..."

Thor shook his head, pushing Loki's hand off.  "We can't keep running.   We have lost Asgard.  We are responsible for our people.  No more running.  No more leaving trails of enemies in our wake who could have been allies."

Loki sighed, looking down.  As he did so often, Thor wondered what was going through his brother’s mind.  It was always more complicated than Thor would assume, more complicated than it had to be.  "It's easy for you.  You do one  _thing_ , and I deal with the consequences for months to come."

"I know."  Thor looked away, then stood up, pacing nervously.  "But believe me, brother, this is not as  _easy_ for me as you might think."  He was utterly un-aroused.

Loki shifted in form, and Thor's heart almost stopped as Jane looked up at him, looking... looking just as she always had, strong chin, dark eyes that saw straight into Thor's soul.  "Is this better, brother?"

Thor clenched his fists.  It was just Loki trying to rile him up, he reminded himself, and somehow, that made it more galling.  Jane was gone, he was over it, but Loki had a way of digging up what should remain happily buried. "Don't look like that," he growled.

Loki held up a placating hand.  "Fine.  How about this?"  A shiver of reality, and Sif sat in front of him, armored and mighty, her legs spread.

Thor closed his eyes.  "Loki,  _stop this_.  Stop trying to make it worse.  Just... just help me do this, and we'll be well on the way to forgetting it ever happened?"

Loki's reply was much quieter.  "Then... how about this?"

Thor opened his eyes.  A woman he didn't know sat in front of him - pale, although less pale than Loki, with a round face, a mess of long, bright auburn hair, large and luscious curves from breasts to hips to thighs, tattoos of roses on her forearms.  Pretty, tempting, and looking nothing like anyone Thor knew.

It was an olive branch.   _We’ll pretend it’s not us doing this, just two people who don’t have our history_.  Loki’s simple willingness to do this – admittedly, after some arm-twisting – was heartwarming.

And it was... fine.


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you sure you don’t want to hold it, dearie?”

Thor tried not to laugh at the idea of anyone calling Loki  _dearie_.  The nurse was already upset enough after experieincing Loki’s utter disinterest in having the baby ‘the natural way.’   _I have not the faintest desire to shove a watermelon out of my quim; it’s old enough to breathe, cut it out of me._

Loki looked at the squirming, red, slimy newborn with vague distaste.  “No.  I want to take a nap now that I finally don’t have a parasite kicking my entrails, and I’m going to get started as soon as they tie off the stitches.  Give it to Thor.”

The nurse sighed and turned to Thor.  “Do you want to hold your son?"

Fathers, Thor had been assured, were always very protective and proud of their sons.  The slightly sickened and overwhelmed feeling that was foremost on his own brain must be due to the quite bizarre circumstances surrounding the creation of this particular son.  He took it from her, holding it awkwardly at arm’s length under its armpits.

“Um – not quite like that.  Hold it a little more like a football…”

“A what?” he asked her, blankly.

She set her lips and demonstrated, showing how to tuck it into the crook of his arm.  “I should teach you how to feed and change the boy.”

“Yes,” Thor agreed, looking down at the wiggling little boy.  “His other parent is… not going to be terribly involved, I think.”  Odd, wasn’t it.  The abandoned little boy was well on his way to abandoning his – her – oh, whatever, this was all too confusing – own son.  Was Loki himself an unwanted product of a political union?  It was depressing to consider.

Fortunately, the process of feeding, burping, and changing the boy, as the nurse demonstrated and talked him through, left him little presence of mind to dwell on uncomfortable speculations.

As did repeating the ritual an hour later.

And two hours after that.

And an hour and a half after that.

And through the baby’s frequent awakenings through the rest of the day and all through the night.

“I’ll never abandon you,” Thor promised the boy, feeding him with a jaw-cracking yawn after he had lost count of the awakenings (and the time of day).  “Even if I never…” another hopeless yawn, “sleep again.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

Loki woke in the bed she had come to think of as hers, in the room in Stark Tower that had been assigned to her through the pregnancy – soft and quiet, muted colors, muted sounds.  Calming.  Isolated.  They must have moved her there while she slept, thank the Norns.  The clock suggested that she had slept through two days…!

And, she realized as she woke fully, she was  _herself_  again.  She felt it, deeply within her bones - her magic was back, her potency! She leaped out of bed, throwing up dizzying arrays of illusion - green and purple auroras against a starry sky that used to be the ceiling, serpentine dragons breathing red fire, coyotes dancing, swirling and howling, filling the space, just to feel that she  _could.._.

She took a deep breath and wiped the illusions away.  Enough playtime; it was time for business.   _She_ made herself a  _he_ again - and a more wrenching transformation it was than it had ever been before.  Odd, that, she thought, closing her eyes to clarify her focus.  Her blood fought her - pulling back like an elastic band, moving as she tried to grasp hold, resisting a change somehow more fundamental than her genitals... until, with a gut-wrenching snap like a tear,  _she_ was  _he_ again.  He exhaled with relief, touching himself, examining his body.

The incision was much smaller than he had thought it would be, stitched neatly.  It would heal quickly, he noted with satisfaction.  The strange stretch and distortion of the skin atop his stomach, surely, as well - everything below seemed intact, seemed as it always had been.

All in all, he thought as he dressed in clothing he had not worn since the beginning of this ordeal - as miserable an experience as it had been, it was a small price to pay for his freedom now that it was all done.

Speaking of...

* * *

Thor found him in the large, sunny bar-room overlooking the balcony and landing pad, a large glass of whiskey in hand, staring out over Manhattan with an almost avaricious look on his face.

"Brother," Thor said, tentatively.  Loki grinned at him.  After so many months of misery,  _not_ feeling heavy and impotent was too joyous to allow him to stop grinning.  The whiskey was helping. "Don't you want to see our child?"

Loki looked at the bundle, small and almost lost in the crook of Thor's arm, sucking at a bottle Thor was holding to its mouth. "It doesn't look any different from any other one."

"But it's ours."  Thor pulled the bottle away and started to bounce the baby on his shoulder, patting its back.

"Good, I'm glad you like it." Loki turned back to the skyline and his whiskey.

"Look, Loki..." Thor sighed, setting the bottle down on the bar.  "I have obligations elsewhere.  I have been tending him nonstop.  Could you see to Jormungand for a few hours?"

"Don't you have someone for that?"

"I am selecting nursemaids from among the Asgardians, yes - but I don't want to rush that decision. He deserves the best care we can give.  In the meantime?"

Loki sighed and turned, taking the shapeless bundle from Thor.  "Aren't you worried that I'll drop him, brother?" He dropped the bundle, and as Thor lunged forward with an agonized shout, Loki conjured a gust of wind to bring it back to his arms, laughing at the terrified look on Thor's face.

"That's not funny, brother," Thor said, his eye glowing with anger.

"I thought it was." Loki tucked the squishy bundle in his arm.  "I won't let anything happen to it."  Seeing Thor's disbelieving look, he added, "That would just give Strange the option to castrate or kill me, after all."  He was starting to get a sense for what Strange's surveillance felt like, and he was very much under it at the moment.

"Please don't make me regret this," Thor said, oddly quietly.

"It'll be just the same snoring larva when you get back," Loki promised.

Thor took one last look at it, stroking the yellow fuzz on its head with a finger almost as big as its head.  He tore himself away with visible effort, running out onto the balcony as if afraid he'd never leave if he hesitated.  He must  _really_  not trust Loki.  Not that Loki blamed him.  Only an idiot would, at this point.

Loki watched as Thor flew into the air, no pause to swing a hammer anymore.  It was utterly clear to him, now, that Mjolnir had been a mere prop that limited Thor, a childish thing that needed to be discarded for him to find his full adult power, the power of a God who was, already, mightier than Odin...

A god who had sired this inauspicious little blob.  Yet, now, laying it out on the bar and looking at it closely, Loki could see its potential.  He could feel the latent power brewing inside of it, ready to be molded, instructed, controlled, wielded.  He could see how the outsized head and outsized shoulders would grow into noble, powerful features to turn the heads and win the hearts of subjects.  And Thor had been worried Loki would take care of him.  Loki didn't think he could kill this baby even if he wanted to.

It made strange, hiccupy snores, and Loki poked its fat cheek, experimentally.  It giggled, gurgled, and went back to sleep.

Quite strange to think that this unfinished, snoring, sleeping thing would outlive Loki and Thor, and would be more powerful than both, in his time.  Loki grasped the bar with both hands as a dizzying vision overtook him, a vertigo-inducing Sight of a possible future - one where he overthrew Thor, took this moment of trust to destroy the Avengers from the inside, and took control of Midgard, of the weak Terrans and refugee Asgardians - and this babe outlived him, outlasted him, overpowered him, and prevailed, killing an older, weaker Loki.

What, then, was the point?

Loki poured himself another whiskey.  He didn't know why the Sight was upon him, in this moment, but he would use it while it was.  He took another draught, closed his eyes, and saw - another future, another possibility.  He saw himself at the side of this child, training and tutoring, molding him into the greatest God the world had yet seen, the power behind the throne, making Jormungand unspeakably mighty.  Living on in him after Loki's own death.

Well.

He wandered back to the expanse of glass walls to stare over Manhattan.  Why be limited in the scope of his ambition to just one lifetime?


End file.
